


Is that an editor?!

by LolaIbz



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, do not piss off a witch, learning valuable life lessons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:02:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23034445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LolaIbz/pseuds/LolaIbz
Summary: Miranda has been in a snit for the last... TWO YEARS. So it was only a matter of time until someone taught her a lesson. But what happens when this someone turns out to be a witch Miranda has fallen out with? A certain brunette will come to her rescue but things will get quite messy.Inspired by this scene in HP and the goblet of fire where Moody turns handsome (but insufferable) Malfoy into a ferret and McGonagall's legendary "is that a student?" line.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 9
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1: you'll know what being small and defenseless is like

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys, it's me again. I've been reading you but haven't written in a while. So bear with me, I'm sorely out of shape. Slow updates ahead.  
> Remember that I'm not a native English speaker so there might be misspelling and weird grammar. Don't really know where this story will end up but wanted to try it either way. Thank you all and enjoy

As usually, it was another dreadful Monday winter morning. Sitting at her desk, Miranda could feel another migraine coming on at the mere thought of having to go through yet another god awful budget meeting, where no doubt toad-man Irv would try to undermine her work with petty concerns and silly questions. Seriously, the man was an utter half-wit at best. He is pretty much like a horse on a balcony, how he got there is the ultimate enigma. And then having to listen to her uninspired employees rambling pointlessly. She wouldn't be surprised if they proposed Christmas sweaters for this month's issue, they couldn't come up with an interesting idea not even to save their lives.

Miranda sighed.

There was only one employee who had surpassed her expectations, more specifically one assistant who had repeatedly proved herself smarter, better, stronger than all. But she had let her go almost two years ago. Well, not let her go, no. She had scared her off. She had shown her what Miranda Priestly, the ice queen, the dragon lady, the devil in Prada could do. And of course, as the intelligent woman Andrea Sachs is, she had run for the woods. 

The editor huffed and squirmed in her chair. It wasn't like her to be this restless and it only got her more annoyed. Everything seemed wrong. The lay out for the next issue was dismal at best, her coffee was obnoxiously tepid, her employees were a gaggle of inutiles and her manicurist had botched a nail during her previous (and last) appointment. And that coffee table! God, had it always been that horribly gaudy?

Miranda slammed her laptop closed, threw her fountain pen across the desk and strode out of her office. She needed some air. Her assistant, Mel, scrambbled to her feet and promptly grabbed her coat and purse.

-"Call Roy and tell Michelle to be ready. I'll see the samples for myself" - she said as she practically ripped both items from the other woman's hands -

-"B-but the budget meeting..." - Mel managed to stammer out before a death glare cut her out -

Once in the elevator she deflated. The carefully crafted persona she struggled so hard to mantain slipped for a moment in the wake of exhaustion and frustration. The truth was that since the whole debacle in Paris her life had been nothing but a tedious pantomime. There were moments in which not even her darling Bobbseys were able to bring joy into her life. That's why when her therapist suggested antidepressants she agreed without a second thought. It'd be a year next week since she had started taking them but nothing had really changed.

The main hall in Elias Clarke building was eerily quiet when the elvator's doors opened. The metallic sound of its ping resonated loudly through the space and Miranda raised a brow at the oddity of it. Walking determinedly towards the main doors she startled when her shoe hit an unexpected bump and a painful squeak was heard loud and clear.

The editor jumped backwards, her back hitting the cold metal slabs. Thanks God they had already slid close or this would be an entirely different story. Once her heart regained normal rate she looked around curiously trying to locate the source of such fright. Out of the blue, purple smoke welled in an explosion and Miranda couldn't contain a terrified screech.

Scared and disoriented she looked around cautiously, trying to discern something, anything among the thick mist when a booming voice came from seemingly nowhere and everywhere.

-"YOU STEPPED ON MY TAIL!"

The editor's eyes widened impossibly while she stared at the womanly figure in the mist.

-"I- .... what?" - Mirande replied dumbfounded -

-"I said, you stepped on my tail. Aren't you gonna apologize?" - the voice insisted -

-"Your tail...." - Miranda repeated slowly as in trance -

-"Yes, and you stepped on it. Now, apologize!"

-"Ok..." - the editor brushed her coat free of invisible particles and rolled her neck in annoyance - "If there was anything I was missing was a psychiatric escapee trespassing"

-"A what?"

-"Leave before I summon security" - Miranda spat before heading for the door -

-"Wait.Right.There" - the voice drawled dangerously and the white-haired woman found herself sunk to her ankles in what a moment before seemed a perfectly solid tile -

-"What!"

-"Now, listen to me, Miranda Priestly" - the voice continued evenly and mischievously calm- "You make use and abuse of your position, you tug and push at your will. You decide about other people's lives without regard for anything else but your interest. You face the powerful, yes, but also have repeatedly stompped on the weak. You did a moment ago" -

Miranda froze, not understanding where she was going but too scared to question. This woman had made it inside the building, had somehow caused an explosion of sorts and there was no guard in sight. Every little thing rang a bell of alarm. Miranda wasn't prone to bouts of terror but she was currently frozen on the spot by it.

-"And it is my wont to teach a lesson to those who do" - the editor could practically hear the snicker in those words - "Miranda Priestly, you will know what being small and helpless is like, firsthand" - 

And with that, her sight went black.


	2. Chapter 2: I'll give you a clue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Locations are tentative since I've never been to New York :p  
> Again, I'm not a native English speaker.  
> Comment and enjoy

Miranda woke up with her cheek pressed against a hard surface. She could feel the cold seeping into her bones and her left side ached from being in an odd position for too long. This couldn't be good for her Sciatica. She blinked a few times to clear her sight before scrunching her eyes closed again. It was too bright, she could hear the sounds in the street with shocking clarity and the smell... She usually could sniff the ever present mild floor cleaner in the hall but now it was a whole new array of odours. It made her head pound horribly and her stomach turn.

She tilted her head backwards trying to gauge her surroundings when a hand clasped the back of her neck and she was suddenly lifted from the floor as if she weighted nothing. A pair of dark green eyes glinted in delight as they took in her new form.

."Ow, but aren't you a darling? I could look at you all day, what a gorgeous specimen" 

Miranda shook in horror and began to squirm until she was dropped unceremoniously on her backside, letting out a painful squeak.

-"Quite the feisty type, my little darling"

-"Stop calling me that, who do you think you are?" - Miranda huffed in annoyance - "I'll have you dragged out by security before you can sa..." - Miranda eyed upwards towards the strange woman, who was tall, taller than she remembered - "What..." - 

-"I must admit that for such nasty personality you turned out to be quite handsome" - the woman said with a devious smirk -

Looking down her body, the editor discovered a thick curtain of fur, the whitest fur she had ever seen. The last time she had seen such unsullied colour was up in the heights of Aspen during a ski trip with her daughters. Snow untouched by any human rested heavily crowning the imposing mountains, the same white as now.

Entranced by it she reached out to comb her fingers through the soft-looking surface but uttered a terrified scream when instead of a hand she saw a tender paw follow her command.

Loud laughter echoed trough the hall.

-"Oh, I should do this more often" - the intruder cackled manically - "Though the Council doesn't take kindly to us interacting with non-magicals" - she cleared her throat and composed herself -

Meanwhile, Miranda continued a careful and horified assessment of herself. It wasn't just a curtain of white fur, she was covered in it, entirely. Her belongings were gone, as well as her human limbs, replaced by equally fur-covered short legs. And, what was that? SHE HAD A TAIL! A TAIL FOR GOD'S SAKE! This had to be joke. Certainly, she was having a bad trip because some resentful employee had spiked one of her several coffees during the day. That was it, that was the only reasonable explanation for the long black-tipped white tail that trailed gracelessly behind her.

White fur... black-tipped tail... like those of a...

-"An ermine" - the woman interrupted her inner musings - "Or a stoat. Whichever you prefer

-"No..." - Miranda let out in a panicked breath -

-"Oh, yes. And if you want to recover your human form you'll have to prove yourself worthy of it"

-"This is a joke. And a very distasteful one at that" - the stoat/editor clambered to its feet and eyed herself again for good measure - "Enough with this"

-"Even if you say that, things have to come in full circle for you to undo the enchantment. I can't break it now" - the witch observed with feigned concern -

-"WHAT!"

-"But I'll give you a clue. If you can undo the littlest share of the damage you've done to a person whose life was altered drastically by your misdeeds, then you'll be changed back to human form in a snap" 

Thick mist pervaded the air and Miranda had to strive to outline the witch's figure. 

"What person? How will I find them? Who are they? Hey!" - the editor took a few steps onwards only to fall flat on her face but before she could touch the floor she found herself suspended midair-

-"You'll just know. I'll give you a bit of a help but then it'll be up to you"

-"And what if I can't find them?!" - Miranda practically whined -

-"Then I suggest you start looking for a burrow of your own" - the woman let out a giggle, amused by her own suggestion - "Oh and watch out for cats, darling. If you ever need me I'll be with the funny ferret. Ta-ta" 

-"What? That doesn't even make sense! Wait, I don't..." - but before she could finish she was swallowed by mist and dropped to the ground with a solid thud - "Ugh, I'll have her pay for my chiropractor"

The loudest claxon she had heard rang out of nowhere and the editor's heart skipped a beat. Sticking close to the wall, she eyed around and tried to regulate her breathing. It would not do to have a heart attack right then and there.

The street, she was in the street. Somewhere in New York, lost and utterly helpless. That witch had done nothing but throw her into the chaos that was the city.

-"Ok, calm down. Think, focus"

But it was easier said than done. The world seemed unsurmountable. Large shoes stompped menancingly, threatening to squash whatever may come between them and the pavement. A world of titans and she was a mouse. Both figuratively and literally. Were ermines related to mice? Were they rodents? Ugh, Miranda shook in disgust at the thought. Nevermind.

From her spot under a large molding protruding from the wall, she craned her neck to get a glimpse of something, anything familiar. 

Trees, a park but not Central Park, no. What else? A large building. Miranda couldn't make out the sign. So much for a short-sighted stoat. She wouldn't last a minute out in the wild. Though she was starting to wonder if she would last any longer here.

She knew this building. She had been here sometime in the past but when? The stairs.... was it a government building? No, it had banners outside. Maybe a restaurant? Too big. 

A boy walked by tugging her mother's hand and the editor's ears perked in alarm.

-"Let's go! I wanna see the dinosaurs!"

-"Dino... THE MUSEUM! The Natural History Museum! This is Roosevelt Park!"

Now at least she knew where in the world she was. Roosevelt Park was a few blocks away from Elias Clarke. If she waited until dark she could go there without being seen and.... and what? 

-"I have to find this person" - Miranda mused under her breath- "If what that witch told me is true, I have to find this person. Among several other millions that live here in New York. Ugh" - the fluffy animal sighed and hid her face in her paws -

While she rubbed her furry temples looking for some realief a foot landed heavily nearby and she startled.

-"But Andy, my boss will fire me if he knows I'm the lead you're following. God, he'll have my ass handed to me on a silver plate" - a woman said in a pleading tone -

-"Andy?" - Miranda raised her head in attention -

-"I know, Sue" - the other woman answered -" I know this is dangerous for you and that you need this job to feed your kids but I promise you, nothing will happen. And your testimony can help other women the bastard's harrassed"

-"Andrea?" - the prospect of reencountering the young woman raised Miranda's morale - "Andrea!" - she screamed as loud as her little lungs allowed - "Andrea!" - she tried again but to no avail -

Both women continued to walk down the street, leaving the editor with a sore throat and watery eyes.


	3. Ready, set, go!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, guys. Here you go. Sorry for the delay but got a few things going on last week. Luckily, I got to take one last final exam before the government ordered compulsory quarantine (yeeeeey). But had to spend my birthday quarantined (naaaaay ). So in the middle of this whole hullabaloo with this pandemic world state, I managed to write this new chapter. Hope you enjoy it and stay safe and healthy, stay home.  
> Enjoy and comment

Miranda grunted breathlessly. Despair and resignation clawing their way up her throat. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cuss and brawl and smash things. Preferably, things that would make a fine crashing noise and more preferably, on the witch's head.

Taking a deep breath, the editor squared her shoulders decidedly.

-"I have to follow her. If there's someone who can help me that's Andrea"

She eyed her front paws dejectedly and with no little amount of disgust lowered them to the ground. The thought that being in four legs was more confortable and safe crossed her mind and she gulped trying to contain the tears that burned behind her eyes. It wouldn't do to have a crying fit right there.

With the utmost care, she ran until she was safely tucked under the neighbouring molding. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest but with fiery mettle she managed to reach the corner of the building, where the sidewalk finished as well.

Carefully, she stuck her head out and looked everywhere. Where had Andrea gone? She had continued walking past the traffic light but that meant that the stoat would have to make it to the other side.

The sun was setting in the horizon and people were dwindling but the traffic seemed as heavy as rush hour. She looked up. Yellow then green. This was her chance.

Gathering courage and storing impulse in her hind legs, she crouched and waited with baited breath. Green, green, green.

Miranda squinted and zoomed in on a parked Volvo right in front of her. It was only a few feet away, she could do it. Green, green, yellow.

Not yet, there were still drivers rushing to make it past. Yellow, yellow, red. Now!

The editor stretched her lithe body with one powerful jump, trying to cover as much distance as she could. A loud screech was heard from behind.

-"A rat!" - a man whined -

-"An ermine, you uncultured swine" - Miranda thought angrily - 

The cars looked like mountains from her path on the zebra crossing. Several people stepped out of her way and she smirked in delight. Before she realized, she had reached the other side and hid behind the wheels.

-"Good God" - she wheezed between puffs of air. It was becoming ever colder and she had to find Andrea soon - "Now where?" 

-"Ann, Ann. I know, 'k?I'm here, I'm going up right now. Wait a sec" - Andrea fumbled with her weathered leather messenger bag and a heavy-looking folder before entering a glass door. Miranda skulked quietly closer and got a glimpse.

The New York Herald, a modest sign read right above the doors.

-"So here is where she went" - Miranda had lost track of her former assistant once she had left the New York Mirror. She didn't know the details, only that she had fallen out with her previous editor in a heated exchange of opinions. She had been surprised by this. Andrea was no pushover nor was she the rowdy kind. That man must have done something really unacceptable for Andrea to react that way - 

A car door closing loudly took Miranda from her inner musings. The driver got down from the vehicle and made his way towards the doors. Without missing a beat, Miranda followed him hot on his heels and entered the building hidden in his shadow. The man stopped by reception and the editor got under a coffee table from where she had an unobstructed view of the building's map.

Fourth floor, chief and associate editor, meeting rooms. Third, canteen and offices. Second floor, more offices. First floor, newsroom. That's it!

Like a white lightning, Miranda rushed towards the elevator but thought better of it and steered towards the stairs. Yhough maybe it wasn''t such a great idea. Midway though the staircase she was already exhausted and the prospect of reaching the top seemed unattainable. 

Why did everything have to be so damn hard?!

After thirty steps that felt like a marathon across the whole effing country, the editor managed to reach the top. 

The newsroom was bustling with activity, people typing noisily, some of them shouting on the phone or to their peers on the other side of the room. Miranda caught a whiff of the remnants of somebody's lunch in the waste bin that made her stomach churn painfully.

She scrubbed her face with her front paws and tried to focus, looking for a brunette head among the sea of people.

-"Andrea... where are you?" - she bit the inside of her cheek and squinted -

The elevator dinged loudly and some heels clicked furiously on the linoleum.

-"I'm here! I'm here!" - Andrea rushed past Miranda's hiding spot, talking on her mobile and waving at someone in the back - "I swear some people don't know how to use an elevator, for God's sake! What's wrong with them?"

Miranda startled. She eyed the ochre tote bag that hung carelessly open from the journalist's elbow, meassuring it up. Surely, it could lodge something as small and lithe as an ermine.

Without a second thought she ran after Andrea. 

She took a shortcut scurrying behind a pile of folders. Dodging a fallen sweater, she climbed on top of a small table's under shelf and jumped into the bag, burrowing into its depths.

Andrea dropped her folders onto her desk before throwing her bag under it. Plopping down on the chair she started typing furiously. If she couldn't finish this article now she wouldn't hear the end of it. Her editor had given her a chance to prove herself and she couldn't lose the opportunity for a front-page, not when she had been writing filling news and obituaries for months.

-"I can do this. Just woman up, Sachs, you've gone through far worse in college, right?"

She blew out her cheeks and kept staring at the screen intently. It was harder for her to concentrate since she had started her treatment but it was all worth it.

In the bag, Miranda was still rubbing her head. Damn Andrea and her habit of mistreating her items. Miranda knew the woman never cared much for fashion but hurling her bag anywhere was simply primal.

Sniffing around, she found her way in the dark. There was a small pencil case, a travel atomizer, a box which smelled strongly of tobacco, some pills and papers. A lot of papers.

Climbing her way up, she stuck her nose out and eyed her surroundings carefully. Andrea should be heading home soon, it was dark outside and some of her colleagues were gathering their belongings and leaving. 

The newsroom emptied slowly but steadily until there was no one left but them. Miranda tired and sat down inside the bag, propping her chin on the metal buckle at the front. Andrea didn't seem fazed by the time nor in a hurry to leave.

The editor must have dozed off briefly because she was woken up by a groan and a foot kicking the bag. Andrea was stretching back in her chair.

-"Finally!" - the brunette said -

-"Finally" - the editor echoed unamused -

-"I'll just forward this to Ann aaaaaaand.... there, it's done. Ugh, I'm free" - Andrea said before yawning loudly -

-"In all seriousness, no manners whatsoever" - Miranda mused irritated from her spot in the bag. -

She hated waiting but what else could she do? It wasn't like she could lay down the law in her current state. No, she'd talk to Andrea when she got home. 

But what if she lived with someone else? What if she couldn't hear her in her ermine form? What if she didn't believe her?

Before she could continue with this train of thought Andrea grabbed her bag and stuffed her things inside. Miranda curled in on herself, trying desperately to avoid being squashed. 

Strutting down the stairs Andrea left the building quickly without losing a second. Miranda endured the swinging motion as best as she could and tried not to vomit inside due to motion sickness. Things seemed to settle once the journalist ensconced herself in the subway and the world stopped spinning on its axis for the little animal.

Andrea took a heavy-looking paperback book from the bag and the editor seized the opportunity to take a good draft of fresh air. Well, about as fresh as it could get in the New Your subway. And then, one single disturbing thought hit her.

What made her think Andrea would want to help her after how things had ended up between them?

She spent the rest of the ride in an unmoving panic, listening to the rustle of paper and the clanking of the carriage.


End file.
